


Sent to Damnation

by 2LIM3RZ



Series: Always Affected [1]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Based on an Only War game, Because this sucks, F/M, Psychological Torture, Size Difference, Space Marine, Stockholm Syndrome, Tech Priest, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Torture, Warhammer 40k Dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27309703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2LIM3RZ/pseuds/2LIM3RZ
Summary: When 99-Novem falls from the land-rig, she thought her worries would end when the hounds came to eat her. She thought she'd be left alone, damned by the Omnissiah.Yet what happens when a familiar rogue space marine returns?[OLD VERSION, GO READ THE REWRITE BLEASE]
Series: Always Affected [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993921
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Sent to Damnation

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the tabletop game me and my friends are playing, so some things are out of context.  
> Also this was written with no outline and pretty much slapped together out of boredom. Why're you reading this in the first place?

The ground was rough as 99-Novem stared blankly after the land-rigs as they continued on their way. One second she’d blink and suddenly the land-rig was much further away. The next second, she opened her eyes to a heavy thud.

She had been laying amongst the rubble, it took a minute to register that one of her cybernetic legs were twisted and mangled by her fall. It took another to realize that her assumptions of multiple broken bones was correct. 

She was already sobbing, 99-Novem only knew because each hiccup and sob hurt her chest, every breath she took was highlighted with another stabbing sensation. Of course, a few possibly bruised or broken ribs, and who knew what else, wasn’t her biggest problem. The massive black armored foot was her big problem. Quite literally in fact.

Twisting up as much as she dared, the tech priest swore her heart dropped as she beheld the angry visage of the rogue space marine’s helmet. One of his pauldrons was worse for wear and decorated with shining blood, both fresh and drying. A gleam of silver interrupted the black where the massive tear from Maximillius’s assault showed its mark.

He stood there, regarding her mutely before he bent and took a hold of her arm, pulling her up. 99-Novem screamed, pulling up her broken arm to grab at his gauntlet. Only succeeding in further harming herself as she shook. No matter how she moved, she hurt or twisted some part of herself. Her metal legs only furthered the matter, doing nothing but being heavy weights as if she wore shackles.

The air was silent except for the distant roar of the land-rigs and lava flows. 

“Please..please no..” 99-Novem whimpered. She didn’t know what she was begging for. She didn’t want to die, yet all the same she didn’t want to live. 

Of course he ignored her whispers, her sobs, and soon her raised voice of panic as he adjusted his hold. It wasn’t any less painful, but merely a more convenient way to carry such an awkwardly weighted person like herself. 99-Novem heard him speaking, but his words were a slurry in her mind, insisting that it wanted to blank out the day’s events in their entirety. His voice was just as one would picture when imagining a space marine, impressive and loud. Yet instead of being a relief, it struck fear into her exhausted heart. 99-Novem felt as if her heart would stop, in fact. 

A moment paused when she realized that one of her legs was still functional.. more or less. If she twisted herself and tried to kick for his wounded arm, she might just get dropped or held in a grip that wasn’t as secure. She’d have a chance to escape! 

_ But.. then what? _ her mind wondered. If she escaped now, the land-rig was hopelessly far away, and no doubt one of those terrifying wrathhounds would come, ripping and tearing into its new half-metal meal. 

Minutes passed as a Valkyrie flew down, landing semi-precariously. Something about was if a cell’s door had been closed upon her face. A sentence to death or whatever horrors the rebels and space marine were planning. 99-Novem wanted to tell herself she was just saving her energy to escape later, that she was just watching the men to get a tab on her situation despite how broken she was…

In truth, she just went limp in the space marine’s grip, shaking and wheezing, occasionally hacking up a bit of blood. Any time she felt as though she were about to doze off into a more peaceful state, the space marine moved or otherwise jar her. It was horrendous to be kept awake through such a..monotonous trip. Which was the worst part. Sure, she was more-or-less worried on how many internal injuries she could have, and over just  _ why _ the space marine took her prisoner. She was a tech priest and a drop trooper, and neither of those she was good at. Unless the space marine wanted a tech priest with the professional skill of unlucky failure, he was shit out of luck.

99-Novem wheezed a clipped, grim laugh that stopped after the first ‘heh’ left her in pain. Maybe the Omnissiah really did turn a blind eye to her, maybe even her squad’s God-Emperor turned a blind eye. Maybe she was really just all alone here, her squadmates sure weren’t going to find and rescue her by now. She was all alone in this. It wasn’t like the mystery of a combat mission as there always was some kind of guarantee. She’d either get hurt, fail spectacularly, go into a Psyker caused mental breakdown, or die. Then, at the very end, the guarantee of a good meal or chatting to someone like 64-D.

She had none of those guarantees now, nothing at all. Inside, she warred with herself, torn between hoping and thinking, she didn’t want to risk murmuring prayers to the Omnissiah and signing herself as a lost cause so quickly. She got herself in this situation in the first place, she should have.. she should have done something, anything, to prevent her fall onto the tracks. 

She realized that she really just felt like shit.

  
  


99-Novem didn’t realize when she woke up in such an uncomfortable position, her arms stretched wide by shackles to the wall, that she had fallen asleep or.. Whatever had happened for the skip in time. Groaning, she tried to pull her legs underneath her and realized they were gone. In fact, lots of things were gone. Her armor, her goggles, everything except for her robes and underclothes. Shaking, she tentatively pulled her good arm and hissed in pain. She was more than certainly trapped. Upon assessing her broken arm, she looked quickly away. Even covered by the heavy crimson sleeve of her robe, it was disturbing to see how it looked so wrong.

It was one thing to witness the broken limbs on a battlefield, another to see her own arm bent so.. awkwardly.

It didn’t necessarily help that she never was strong-willed. 99-Novem resolved to look around the bare cube of a room, at least it looked sort of cube-ish. It was hard to tell since the lighting was so dim. Was she on a ship? Was she still on the planet? On  _ a _ planet? It was a confusing ordeal. Wincing, she looked to the door as it opened, exposing the rogue space marine, she couldn’t quite see him properly due to the dismal lighting. 99-Novem felt herself already begin to quiver as he stepped closer and closer. 

“Pl-Please I don’t.. I don’t know anything! I’m just a tech priest! I don’t know anything! And- And I’m not even a useful tech priest! I’m useless! I swear! I’m-”

The words began to pour out of her in a tirade of shameless begging, but they were ended as the space marine slapped her. It was what one could be considered as gentle, for a space marine that is. It didn’t break her jaw, but it certainly hurt. A lot. 

It also got her to shut up and stare up at the glaring helmet that loomed close to her face.

“Name.”

“Wh..what-”

Another slap, and he only repeated the single word again. It stunned her, 99-Novem didn’t know what to expect, this certainly wasn’t it.

“Ninety.. 99-Novem.”

He paused.

“Regiment and rank.”

“Ah..Revsheer 32nd. Tech priest.”

“Homeworld.”

“...I-I don’t under-” 99-Novem was confused by the line of questioning, she expected something more out of her league, like strategies and other information she didn’t have. She didn’t want to respond to the question of her homeworld either, what if the rebels for whatever reason targeted it? They couldn’t hold up to the might of the Mechanicum anyways.. But they were sly enough to sneak among their ranks on the ship..No one could sneak into the ranks of the Adeptus Mechanicus easily anyways..

She was struck out of her debating when her broken arm was grabbed and twisted. The stubs of where her legs would have been twitched uselessly as she arched her back with a shriek. 

“Homeworld, make me repeat myself again and you will regret it. Take too long to answer and the result will be the same.” the space marine hissed as he let go of her arm standing to his full height. 

“Glacius Condi-Conditor.” her voice was a wavering warble as she stared up at his black helmet and red eyes.

“Names and ranks of your squad.”

99-Novem couldn’t answer that. She couldn’t betray them. That would-

Her broken arm was squeezed harshly once more, the space marine’s free hand engulfing her neck as he pressed the back of her head against the wall. He didn’t completely choke her, instead applying just enough pressure on her neck to feel overwhelming and dizzying. Not to mention the pain on her arm. Whining, 99-Novem gritted her teeth. She could rat herself out all she wanted, but she could do her damn best to-

Letting go of her arm, she was hit in the abdomen. The breath in her came out as a nauseous feeling took place, coiling within as she coughed and wheezed, trying to get some air back. As she lurched forward from the punch, she was held sternly against the wall by the space marine. She was forced to awkwardly lunge instead.

It was a horrible time to only have two functioning limbs, replacing one’s self with mechanical parts had its draw backs when it came to torture, who knew. She could only hope he didn’t get any bright ideas with the decorative plates on her back.

The space marine held onto her neck, tightening his grip until it truly was suffocating. As much as it hurt, 99-Novem’s arms instinctively pulled in a vain attempt to throw the man off. For what felt like the fifteenth time, her thoughts clashed against each other. Part of her bitter and angry towards the weakness of flesh, the other part wishing the pain would just end. 

Her heartbeat seemed to thud painfully in her head as she found herself choking on bile, the space marine letting go as she lurched over as far as she could, vomiting whatever was in her stomach. Coughing on the disgusting aftertaste as the space marine stood silently and slammed her head against the wall. 

When 99-Novem came to, she was shaking and  _ cold _ . Opening her eyes slowly, the chains rattled faintly from her trembling. The room wasn’t in its partially lit state, it was much brighter now. She didn’t care for that, caring only for how her body ached and her head hurt like it never hurt before. It was like when she got shot by that ork, a painful throbbing in her body. Wiggling her fingers, 99-Novem tried for some semblance of feeling in her hands and flinched at her broken arm, at the lack of movement she managed.

Worse still was the silence, loud and overbearing with every movement she made sounding too loud. It was too bright, too loud, too silent, too much. A moment passed and she realized it wasn’t totally silent, there was a quiet ringing in her ears, bothersome and annoying like a fly. She didn’t know how much time passed when the space marine entered the room. 

“Name.” he spoke first.

“99-Novem.” she parroted back with a croak.

“Regiment and rank.”

“Revsheer...Revsheer 32nd. Tech Priest.” her throat and mouth felt uncomfortably dry as she tried to swallow what saliva she had left. She couldn’t understand the repetition of questions. 

“Homeworld.”

“Glacius Conditor.”

“Names and ranks of your squad.”

Once more she hesitated with a wince.

“I… um..” she couldn’t help the loyalty that stuck with her squad. Sure, Orion and Maximillius were assholes, but Anders and Erik were likable enough, they didn’t scorn and make fun of her. Or threaten to leave her on blasted land-rig tracks. Or steal her axe to fight a damned space marine. Or..

99-Novem yelped as the space marine grabbed a hold of the shiny silver brooch that held the shawl-like fabric to her shoulders, and tore it, throwing it to the side. 

“What are you-” she shrieked as his metal covered fingers grabbed the edge of her robe. The metal was even colder than the room. Her cut off words jumped to another yell as he tore the robe. The unwilling fabric stinging her skin as she was yanked forward. 

Now she was cold, quivering from both that and fear. She never wore much under her robes, just a tank top, shorts, and her underwear. 99-Novem’s eyes were wide as she stared at the emotionless helmet. She didn’t dare speak as his hand went to her back, going down and stopping at the first of the thin metal plating embedded into her skin for decoration. Almost as if instinct kicked in and made her realize his intentions, 99-Novem thrashed back, yanking back her broken arm painfully with a scream.

“No! No, no, no!” her voice was raised into a caterwaul as the armored man bent over her ominously.

One hand tore off the tank top as his other arm disappeared behind himself. From the corner of her eye, she saw that fearsome combat knife enter her vision. The same gleaming knife that cleaved Junior Commissar Hector in half.

Was she to suffer the same fate?

99-Novem pulled herself as far as she could, yet was restrained by a sturdy hand as she felt the tip of the blade against her skin, just before the smallest of the metal plates.

“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you- Just please don't!” she cried. She had those plates accidentally tugged once, and while it hadn’t been torn off, it sure stung. She couldn’t imagine the.. No, she wouldn’t need to imagine it. She was about to suffer it.

The rogue ignored her pleas as the knife gently wedged itself just at the metal plate, slicing neatly into her skin. It was uncanny how almost surgical it was as 99-Novem pulled herself between striving to stay still and actually trying to fight her way out. Her teeth were bared almost in an animalistic manner as she screamed when he began to peel the plate up. The plates were only surface, and very thin, but nonetheless they were embedded into her, shallowly, but still there. If she had her legs, they’d be kicking, but all she could do was awkwardly push herself against him.

She almost started sobbing thank you to the Omnissiah when he stopped. There was no relief in the pain, just the fact that the cause of it had stopped was relief enough. Going limp, she hung her head as the rogue space marine used her tank top to cover the bleeding wound. An act that sent more unease into her than the torture.

“Names and ranks of your squad members.” he repeated after another hiccup she made.

“Annn..Anders. Squuh...Squ-Squad-duh leader.” her words were slurred with her sobbing and the occasional hiccup. 99-Novem surprised herself with the fact she still had a few tears left to shed. 

“Mmmh-” she paused as she closed her eyes tightly, guilty almost that she relented so soon. If only she was stronger, if only-

The knife’s tip teased at the edge of the second plate.

“Full names.”

“I-I don’t remember them! I’m sorry! I’m sorry- I-I-I-” she wailed “I’m trying! I’m-” some part of her knew her words were just becoming slurred and uncoordinated. That nothing she was saying was legible. She flinched at every small movement the space marine made as he stood, holstered his knife, and walked out of the room.

Her incessant wails quieted into hiccupping murmurs as a man entered. A completely average looking man with what seemed to be a medicae kit. 

All she could recall was a needle, shining in the light before time became fuzzy and gone. Her arms ache fiercely. She ached all over, more than the days that followed after she was shot. More than how her hands ached when her bolt pistol exploded into her face. Her head lolled to lean on her good arm, looking up at the lights of the ceiling. 

The time passed slowly, ticking and ticking. She spent it staring at the door, her fried nerves waiting with trepidation. Any move she made stung her existence injuries, but most of all her back.

99-Novem didn’t know how much time had passed, other than that the moment she slept she woke up groggy and aching. She could only assume at least two days had passed, if it were two days at all. She found herself trying to fill the silence, speaking aloud.

She spoke to herself, at first prayers to the Omnissiah, only to end up bitterly seething when she thought of how her god abandoned her so quickly, had cursed her with such wicked luck. She tried the same with some simple ditties which moved to her thinking of the rowdy and rousing songs some of the troopers would sing and chant joyfully on their moments of relief and victory.

Which soon devolved to her growing resentment to her teammates. She began to rethink all those scenarios they found each other in. Was them abandoning her on the land-rig just a way for them to quickly get rid of the useless tech priest. The tech priest that maybe got lucky if the Omnissiah surprisingly blessed her for that year. 

The entire time of her isolation, she felt the hunger eating away at her. It was a different ache, one that made her more irritable and angry than tired and sluggish.

She also found that if she bent her thumb against her palm, she could start to wiggle her hand out of its metal shackles. Wincing at the glimpse of how raw her skin had become from chafing against the cold metal.

In the middle of once more of seeing how far she could wedge her hand through the shackle when the door opened. Jumping slightly, she stared up at the space marine as he trudged in with loud, thudding steps. 99-Novem’s feelings were once more in disarray as she felt relief at seeing the space marine that had caused her so much pain. It was a terrifying sort of relief. A relief to her purgatory.

In his hand were ration bars and a water bottle on a tray. Sitting so tantalisingly close and she knew she was staring at them like a begging dog.

A light clank alerted her back to the space marine as he crouched, setting the tray oh so close. His hands went to his helmet and she stared at him as he took it off.

Brown eyes stared into hers blandly as she took in his face. It wasn’t too special, except for how broad his jaw was and how his face had clearly seen many battles. 

“99-Novem.” she blurted as he looked down to the tray. Snapping up, he narrowed his eyes. 99-Novem looked away, back down to those nutrition bars that taunted her.

“Homeworld.”

“Revsheer- Hwuh? Um.. Glacius Conditor..” it caught her off guard this time, she was fully prepared to say her rank and regiment. She watched as he took the water bottle, raised it and took a drink of it. Her stomach growled.

“Regiment.” 

“Revsheer 32nd. T…” she cut herself off once she realized he only said regiment, watching as a sort of smug look appeared on his face as he broke off a piece of the nutrient bar and ate it.

He was doing that on purpose.

“Squad leader.” 

99-Novem did her best to shuffle, which meant she opened and closed her good hand, not daring to risk moving her broken arm.

“Anders.”

The space marine raised the water bottle to her, 99-Novem nearly wanted to cry as she got a drink, and was bitter when he quickly sat it back down.

“Rank.”

“Tech Priest.”

She was allowed a morsel of the nutrient bar. Something so plain hadn’t tasted so good before.

“The Psyker.”

That made her pause as 99-Novem stared at him. Maximillius. As much as she wanted, some dying and fizzling part of her, to protect her squad, she didn’t feel too merciful towards the Psyker.

“Maximillius.” she glanced away at how angry her voice had gotten. Now was no time to even sound angry towards the man giving her food. Towards her captor really.

“He.. always wears a cape. He’s got an eye that shoots a laser.. Uh.. he..” she hesitated as she spoke out of line, but if he was pleased with her information, he’d give her more of that nutrient bar and water. And it was better to stare at the black armor and hear something else speak than her own voice in pure silence.

“Go on.”

Opening and closing her mouth for a moment, she coughed and continued.

“He’s cocky and rude. And.. and can throw things with his mind-”

“I know this information.” the space marine stopped her.

99-Novem went silent, closing her eyes and ducking her head, her body tensing even though it stung to do so. It was an odd feeling as she slowly opened her eyes and looked up when no pain came.

“The rest of your squad.”

“R..Right.. There’s.. uhm.. Orion. Heavy weapons. And Erik, Ander’s right hand. That’s it.”

“You’re missing the man with the flamer.”

“Fl..flamer? There’s no one I know of-” she paused with realization “Blaze. Blaze, the bastard that killed my dog.” 

A look of intrigue seemed to phase onto the rogue marine’s face as he regarded her for a moment before offering the rest of the nutrient bar. It was humiliating to be  _ fed _ like that. Worse was the sinking anxiety that rose its vile head as the space marine replaced his helmet and left. She was once more alone. Alone and alone to the silence.

Time passed once more, though her cycle of speaking to herself was interrupted by the occasional visit from the space marine. He’d repeat the questions in a different order, each time taunting her with those nutrient bars. Once even, through a cleverly worded sentence that she was hoping she wasn’t misconstruing, there was a chance she could be let go.

Then he stopped visiting. No warning just like last time, he was simply gone.

99-Novem hated herself for missing him.

“No. I don’t.” she whispered to no one but herself “I- I just miss the company.” she had no reason to speak this out loud. As if she was trying to convince her that she just missed the fact that someone spoke to her, even if she was effectively being drilled on who her squadmates and regiment were.

She just missed the idea of company. She didn’t miss him. She didn’t miss the bastard. Closing her eyes tightly, she took a deep breath and tried to think back on her squad. 

Where there was once a vague idea of hope, there was none. Not even a semblance. Bitterness and anger took its place. 

Time once more seemed to cease its existence as she hung there. Crawling, or speeding along, she didn’t know. Once more, she bore it silently before giving way to filling the void with words.

  
  


When the rogue marine returned again, she was appalled to find herself excited, joyful even, as he stepped inside the room. Before her excitement simmered down to confusion as she realized how he was dressed.

He wasn’t wearing his armor.

He was wearing clothes in fact, and somehow this uneased her. It was easy to pretend he was something else when he was in his armor, especially with his helmet on. Yet seeing him in those black clothes unsettled her. 

Perhaps it was how she could see how strong he was on such a physical level. Of course she  _ knew _ he was strong, she felt the utter control he had on his strength when he choked or hit her. Even under the sleeves of his shirt, she could almost see how the muscles in his arm rippled with restraint. Already she heard her heart thudding in her ears. 99-Novem staunchly refused to speak.

He loomed over her ominously, forcing 99-Novem to look up with wide eyes as he moved, grabbing her harshly at her waist. Reeling with confusion, 99-Novem was struggling to compute what he was doing as one of his hands went to his pants.

As soon as his hand began to move, it dawned on her what he was doing.

Looking up to his face, 99-Novem found that she couldn’t move. She knew she should move. She could move, even just a little. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breath. Her face was wet with tears, but she couldn’t move despite how she was limply being handled. 

With a choking cry, startling herself out of her revealry, 99-Novem yanked hard on her good arm. It took a second try to yank her arm free, the adrenaline in her veins blocked the pain from her thumb, but how it twisted wrongly, she certainly messed that up too.

“No! No! Omnissiah, please no!” she wailed, her free hand clawing at the space marine.

He was unaffected, the hand on her hip gripping tightly as he grunted in response to her sudden thrashing. His other hand grabbed her hand, twisting by the wrist with a crunch.

99-Novem’s voice seemed to die with her sudden efforts as she tensed, tried to tug away one last time, and submitted. Her head leaned on the wall as she faced towards her broken arm. Her breathing hitched as she sobbed out a moan. If she closed her eyes, maybe she could retreat elsewhere in her mind. Pretend that anything else was happening.

She couldn’t. She was too damningly useless. 

99-Novem snapped out of her shielding thoughts when she was let go. Calling out, she gritted her teeth, trying not to sob from all the weight she was putting on her hurting arm. From what just happened. She wouldn’t call the space marine a friend, but she thought there was some sort of established trust. Sure if she answered something wrong or not quick enough, he hurt her a little, but that was all! It was just a little pain-

Her good arm with the now broken hand was grabbed and raised as something cold touched her skin. Looking up through the blur of tears, a hiccup stuttering in her shock.

“Don’t. I beg of you.. Don’t.. I won’t- I won’t fight back next time- I swuh..swear!” her voice was barely a whisper as she stared at the knife he held to her arm, already she could see a thin line of blood. Ignoring her, the space marine dug the knife in, hacking away her arm.

99-Novem was vaguely aware of someone stepping inside the room as she screeched. As she thrashed and threw herself as blood flowed freely where her arm once was.


End file.
